


an officer and a gentleman

by misstaken



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Car Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misstaken/pseuds/misstaken
Summary: Cor Leonis just wants to drink his whiskey in peace. Loqi Tummelt has other plans.





	an officer and a gentleman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeaLeafDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaLeafDragon/gifts).



> Thanks to my Twitter followers for the prompt, classic rock for musical accompaniment, and a recent road trip through rural America to put all the pieces together in my head.
> 
> This was written as part of a "shortfic" prompt series; the pairing is Cor/Loqi and the song to go with this one is "Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)" performed by The Doors.

Clouds of dust kicked up around the wheels of the pickup truck that Cor had been driving since his escape from the Crown City. It was originally a loaner from the hunters at the Prairie Outpost, but the Marshal had taken a liking to the vehicle after the gearheads in Lestallum upgraded the engine and interior in exchange for daemon extermination along one of their main supply routes. It wasn’t the same luxury as the Audi that he had driven so often before the fall of Insomnia, but so many other things had changed in the months since the Imperial attack, Cor decided that the truck was another sign of the times and embraced it.

He tucked the keys in his pocket and brushed the rust-colored dust off of his black jacket as he pushed the door to the bar open. The Marshal expected fewer patrons in the middle of the afternoon, but outside of farming, machine repair, and a small amount of hospitality, the main industry in the outlying regions of Leide was hunting, which had no designated working hours. It wasn’t his place to judge, he supposed, considering he continued to cling to a job title that had only marginal relevance now that his kingdom had been decimated.

“What can I get you?” the bartender drawled as Cor rested his elbows on the lacquered wood top and peered at the line of liquor bottles.

“Whiskey. Double, neat. Do you have anything better than Red?” He motioned towards a half-full bottle of brown liquor.

The bartender eyed him and chuckled. “Most people these days lookin’ for the most bang for their buck, not the best taste,” he said, “but if y’all got the scratch, I got some Yamazaki Single Malt.” He reached under the counter and produced a bottle and a glass, raising his eyebrow at Cor.

“I’ll take it,” Cor acknowledged the bartender and pushed a bill across the counter as the bartender slid the glass towards him. The pour was heavy-handed, nearly a triple, and Cor took a preliminary sip, quickly remembering everything he loved and hated about drinking whiskey. Love outweighed hate after recent events, and he drained half the glass in a single drink, feeling the burn of the liquor as it slid down his dry throat.

He glanced at his phone, waiting for a message from Iris or Monica; after seeing Noctis and his retinue off to Altissia, Cor departed the next morning to return to the countryside. Watching the Prince leave reminded him too much of his own journey with Regis, Cid, and Weskham for his own comfort, and while Iris protested his departure, Cor had to assess his own situation before deciding what he was going to do now that the Prince completed his journey to Altissia and King Regis’s light had disappeared from his blade. Assessing his situation became driving towards the Prairie Outpost until he was nearly out of fuel, intending to return the truck to the hunters, but ultimately finding himself on his second glass of whiskey, listening idly to the conversations of the hunters and farmers that surrounded him.

“...long nights are bad for the crops...”  
“Daemons seem to be growin’ in numbers anymore…”  
“Ain’t seen those Imperial boys ‘round these parts in a minute, not since those city boys took down their base…”

Cor swallowed a sip of his drink, noting that it was fairly likely that the Imperials had diverted their efforts to the summoning of the Hydraean, but silently congratulated Noctis and his friends for what they had done to bring hope to the populace in a time where hope seemed hard to come by. The Imperial threat in this region had been greater than the threat of the daemons at a point; with that danger eliminated, the people were able to return to what passed for normal life in a time of increasingly supernatural happenings.

The bartender glanced up as the door creaked open, and as Cor took another drink of whiskey he noticed the man’s brow furrow with concern. He continued to look forward, using the mirror behind the bottles to observe the person who had just entered the bar. Though the glass was dirty and a crack ran through the center, as the man approached the bar, his blonde hair and cocky swagger was unmistakable.

“Marshal Leonis,” he sneered, and Cor continued to stare forward into the row of bottles, watching as he crossed his arms across his chest. His eyebrow raised slightly at Loqi’s attire. The Marshal had never seen him without his full suit of armor. Loqi was clad in black canvas pants and a loose gray shirt; Cor wondered offhandedly what happened to the other man’s clothes.

“Tummelt,” Cor replied coolly, “What a surprise. I thought you’d be in Altissia with the remainder of the Imperial forces.”

Loqi blinked at Cor. “That’s not public knowledge.”

“I’m not the general public,” Cor replied, the scent of the younger man’s cologne and sweat permeating his nose over the strong aroma of the whiskey in his glass. If swagger had a smell, it was Loqi Tummelt; he hadn’t changed from the first time Cor encountered him years ago on one of his missions to Gralea. “What brings you here?”

“What brings anyone to a bar? I’m going to have a drink,” Loqi retorted.

Cor sighed and glanced back over his shoulder. “Are you going to sit down and have a drink like a normal human being, or are you just going to stand behind me like a stalker?” The blonde man huffed indignantly but in spite of his apparent disdain, sat down on the cracked vinyl stool next to the Marshal.

“Imperials,” the bartender said, glaring at Loqi, “What are you doing here without your thug buddies?”

“I’m a paying customer,” Loqi shot back, “Doesn’t matter where they are. Get me a drink.”

“I could throw you out of my bar, boy,” the bartender returned, and Cor held his hand up with a long, exasperated sigh.

“You’re as hot-headed as you were five years ago,” he scolded, and Loqi huffed. “Order a drink or I’m gonna have to beat the piss out of you again.”

“You couldn’t have done it without the Prince and his bag of tricks,” Loqi countered.

Cor blinked and took another sip of whiskey. His tolerance for liquor and bullshit had always been fairly high, but he noticed that today both seemed to be lower than normal. “I’ll buy your first drink if it means you’ll shut up and let me enjoy my whiskey in peace.”

The Imperial brigadier general glanced back at the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having. Triple, on the rocks,” he ordered, looking back at Cor. “Don’t judge me, I hate whiskey if it’s not cold.”

“I couldn’t care less how you take your drink as long as you do it with some respect,” Cor replied, irritated with the younger man’s attitude but at the same time strangely thankful for the conversation.

Loqi accepted the highball from the bartender and swallowed a long drink of the amber liquor. “I heard you were wandering around the shitholes of the countryside, but this is a new low for the Immortal Marshal,” he said, clearly unable to comprehend the idea of respect. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

“Found myself with a spare moment in between missions,” Cor replied, and raised his eyebrow at Loqi. “Yourself? Heard from the Prince there was quite a skirmish at Formouth Garrison.”

The younger man’s eyes narrowed. “Ulldor held me back. It’s his fault we lost, and…” Loqi trailed off, pushing his blonde hair back from his eyes and taking another sip of his whiskey. “Doesn’t matter. He’s dead now, serves him right.”

Instead of reacting to Loqi’s overwrought egotism and disrespect for a fallen ally, Cor chose to watch him roll an ice cube from his drink over in his mouth, the moisture from the melted ice slick on his parted lips. Between his own mental exhaustion and his liquor-induced haze, his mind began to wander to the last time he had any form of sexual contact outside of jerking off in a motel room while trying to fall asleep. After defeating the Blademaster, under the influence of multiple celebratory drinks, Gladiolus had attempted to kiss him, but Cor still was unable to distance the son from the father; they were similar in too many way and the loss of the Kingsglaive was far too recent to seek any kind of physical gratification in Clarus’s son.

Loqi waved his hand in front of Cor’s face and pursed his lips. “I’m the one who should lecture you on respect, Marshal,” he smirked, “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s impolite to stare?” He leaned forward, draining the last of the drink in his glass and running his tongue over his upper lip. “You should buy me another drink as an apology.”

“You wouldn’t know respect if it hit you in the face,” Cor replied, “I think it’s your turn to buy the next round.”

The blonde man glanced at the row of bottles behind the bar. “I, ah…” he grinned sheepishly, “I don’t have any redneck currency. The Empire pays us by credit transfer.”

Cor laughed sharply, shaking his head. “What the hell are you doing in this bar without any money?”

“Saw your truck outside,” Loqi shrugged, holding onto the wooden bar top with one hand as he kicked his barstool towards Cor, “Figured you weren't on babysitting duty.”

“So you decided to make yourself my charge, then?” Cor muttered. He had never been much of a flirt himself, but the seduction in Loqi’s eyes was unmistakable.

“Thought I’d see if your legendary reputation extends to everything you do, or if I could best you at a different sort of competition,” Loqi answered him with a hand on his upper thigh. The sudden contact went straight to his dick like an electric shock, and Cor slapped Loqi’s hand away.

Loqi glanced at Cor with a befuddled, angry look, and Cor waved the bartender over. “Get us each a shot of your best tequila. No training wheels.” He glanced pointedly at Loqi. “I assume you don’t need them.”

“Hell no,” the younger responded, his eyes still full of confusion. The bartender headed into the back room, and Loqi glared at Cor. “What the hell? I thought you wanted-”

The Marshal’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t forget where we are, you pompous bastard.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sure they don’t make you study the local customs of the areas you plan to invade. Country folk aren’t as open-minded as city folk when it comes to relations between men.”

“Fuck them,” Loqi returned, his tone grandiose, and Cor caught his hand just in time for the bartender to return with a bottle of Gran Reposado.

“Everything all right?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Just fine,” Cor responded, and Loqi nodded. His hand fit neatly around the Imperial soldier’s wrist, and the Marshal watched Loqi’s gray-blue eyes flit between their hands and his eyes as the bartender poured two overflowing shot glasses full of tequila. He could feel Loqi’s rapid pulse beneath his fingertips and noted that the other man hadn’t pulled his hand away.

As the bartender handed the glasses to the two generals, Loqi eyed Cor. “I don’t suppose you take Imperial credits either,” he ventured while Cor wordlessly slid one bill to cover the drinks and one to apologize across the bar.

“The times are changing, Tummelt,” Cor replied. He closed his eyes, lifting the shot glass to his lips and swallowing the contents in a single quick drink. As he opened his eyes, he saw Loqi take a deep breath and toss back his own shot. The younger man coughed and sputtered slightly, squinting at Cor while he regained his composure, and Cor hoped that Loqi didn’t exaggerate his prowess in every aspect of his affairs.

Loqi leaned towards Cor again. “What’s that supposed to mean, Leonis?”

“It means I’m getting out of here,” Cor said, standing up from the barstool and realizing exactly how much he had to drink. “I’m not paying for you to get wasted, and there’s no reason to stay here if we’re not going to drink.”

He made his way towards the door, aware of both Loqi’s eyes and the bartender’s eyes on his back as he focused on walking in a straight line. The world didn’t need any stories of the Immortal Marshal staggering out of a bar with an Imperial officer at his heels. Cor strode through the dusty parking lot, the afternoon having given way to dusk in the hour that he had been in the bars, and climbed into the cab of the truck. No sooner had he leaned his head back on the headrest before there was a knock at the window.

Loqi stood outside the driver’s side, and Cor rolled down the window. “The hell was that?” Loqi leaned against the car door, and as he opened his mouth to answer, the bartender wandered onto the front porch of the saloon.

“Marshal, that Imperial kid giving you trouble?” the bartender called.

“Don’t refer to me as a kid, you geriatric idiot,” Loqi shouted back, and Cor groaned and poked his head out the window.

“He’s going to drive me back to my motel, to thank me for buying him a couple of drinks. Isn’t that right, Brigadier General Tummelt?”

“Of course, Marshal Leonis,” Loqi replied, his tone simpering, and Cor slid over on the bench to the passenger side as Loqi lifted himself up into the raised truck cab, slamming the door shut behind him. “I’m not your damn chauffeur.”

“And I’m sure as hell not telling you where I’m staying for the night,” the Marshal replied, running his hand down his beard and the stubble covering his throat. “There’s a Haven not far from here. I’ll tell you where to pull over.”

He didn’t know that Loqi could even drive a car, but Cor correctly assumed if the younger man could pilot MT Armor, a pickup truck wouldn't be hard for him to figure out. They drove in silence for a moment, and Cor thumbed to the right, showing Loqi where to pull over. The blonde man turned off the engine and glanced over at Cor. “The times certainly are changing, like you said. I tried to kill you twice. Now you hand me the keys to your car?”

“You waltzed into that bar and propositioned me,” Cor said, “and I intend to take you up on your offer, but there’s nothing like an angry conservative mob to spoil the mood,” he continued, turning to face Loqi. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that Loqi was his enemy, but if Prince Noctis could accept help from Ardyn Izunia and Aranea Highwind at his most desperate, Cor decided that he could do the same with the best looking fuckboy in the Imperial military.

At least for one orgasm, anyway.

Cor stretched over Loqi to shut the headlights off on the truck, and Loqi grabbed his wrist in the same motion that Cor had used back at the bar, pulling him upright and crushing his lips against his own. It was a more intimate gesture than the Marshal had expected, but he responded to the kiss regardless, his teeth clicking against the younger man’s as he forced his tongue into Cor’s mouth. Loqi’s tongue moved promisingly against Cor’s, his hand snaking between the older man’s legs and cupping his erection. The heel of his palm rolled over Cor’s cock through the heavy fabric and Loqi grinned mischievously. He tasted of tequila and the scent of liquor and his strong cheap cologne filled Cor’s nostrils as the younger man kissed him again.

“You want this too,” Loqi groaned, “You want it bad, you horny old man.”

Cor ran his calloused fingers through the other man’s long, sandy bangs, grasping a handful of Loqi’s hair in his hand. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Cor said, his voice low and serious as he pushed Loqi’s face back from his own. “You’re at least a decade too early to be any kind of threat to me.” He kept his blue eyes locked with Loqi’s and closed his hand over the other man’s, his hips thrusting upwards into the pressure of their combined grip. “All talk, as usual?”

The corner of the younger man’s mouth curled into a smirk. “You gonna make me?” Loqi glanced at him from the passenger seat, pupils blown wide and breath heavy. Cor was equally aroused, his hard cock rubbing insistently against his pants, and he could feel his better judgement beginning to return from behind the whiskey and tequila haze. He wasn’t sure what to make of the normally cocky, headstrong man sitting across from him in the driver’s seat and suddenly realized that Loqi wasn’t going to do a damn thing unless it was an order. Military training from a young age had its benefits and drawbacks.

“So. You need it to be an order,” the Marshal murmured. “I understand,” he pressed Loqi’s hand down against his prick, “They’ve taught you their definition of a dutiful soldier.” He flicked his index finger underneath Loqi’s chin, and ordered in a low, authoritarian tone, “Suck my cock, soldier.”

The setting sun illuminated the inside of the truck cab, providing ample light for Loqi to push the Marshal’s shirt up and find the button and zipper to his pants. Cor lifted his hips from the seat for a moment, long enough for Loqi to pull Cor’s pants and underwear down to his knees while Cor shrugged his arms out of his jacket. The heat in the cab of the truck was rising, but Cor had no intention of leaving the windows open for someone to discover them.

Loqi looked up at Cor through long, dark eyelashes. He licked his lips and twisted his body sideways, running his hands up and down Cor’s muscular thighs before taking his engorged prick in hand. “Guess the rumors are false about you dyeing your grey hair,” Loqi commented as he eyed the older man’s bare lower half, his hand tightening around Cor’s cock as he stroked slowly, watching for a reaction. Cor snorted with laughter; there was evidently no end to the stories that were told about him amongst the junior officers in both Insomnia and Nifelheim.

The younger man was good with his hands; Cor wondered if this accounted for Loqi’s quick ascension through the Imperial ranks in spite of his lack skill on the battlefield. He wouldn’t put it past the Empire to promote based on sexual favors as opposed to skill; his thoughts of politics and military strategy were completely forgotten when Loqi bent at the waist, his hair forming a golden curtain around his face as he lowered his mouth to Cor’s groin. He glanced up, long eyelashes framing his blue eyes, as he parted his lips and took the head of Cor’s cock in his mouth. Loqi’s tongue slid along the ridge and then back upwards, lapping up the precome that dripped from the tip before closing his lips back around his shaft.

“That’s good,” Cor breathed. He cursed the fact that so much time had passed since his last blowjob, knowing he was more than halfway to climax already. His hand moved behind Loqi’s head, resting at the base of his skull, fingers carding through the other man’s blonde hair. Loqi didn’t need his guidance; he had already proved to Cor that he was perfectly capable of the task at hand.

Loqi’s cheeks hollowed, suction accompanying the rhythmic motion of his tongue over the head of Cor’s dick. Cor thrust a few times into Loqi’s mouth, demonstrating the pace he needed to the younger man. Loqi adapted quickly to that pace, and Cor dug his fingers into his scalp as he gasped and jerked forward, his balls pulling tight against his body. He wanted to come, but Cor also didn’t want to give Loqi the satisfaction of bringing him off so quickly, so he pushed the younger man’s face away, using both hands to straighten Loqi’s body against the seat and reach between his legs to find his dick straining against the confines of his pants.

“Party almost over?” Loqi smirked, and Cor easily immobilized the Imperial officer against the seat with one arm and used the other hand to jerk open his pants, tugging his erection from his fly. The front of his briefs were soaked with precome and Cor shook his head, silencing Loqi’s mouth with his lips, the taste and smell of his own body strong on Loqi’s tongue, mixed with the lingering flavor of liquor.

“Looks like you’re almost there yourself,” Cor commented, noticing the burn on Loqi’s smooth face from his own three-day stubble. “After you come, I want you to finish me off. Swallow every drop. You understand, soldier?”

His blonde head dropped back against the headrest in response, lower lip clenched between his teeth. Cor spit into his hand and continued to stroke Loqi’s cock, the shaft thickening until the veins running along it were visible under the twilight sun. “Fuck,” Loqi spat out between labored breaths, “Damn it, old man, I had money on you being a virgin.”

“Another rumor,” Cor shook his head. He had half a mind to abandon Loqi and return to his own pleasure after that comment, but knew he would have to listen to the other man’s whining if he intentionally denied his orgasm; nothing that turned Cor off faster than whining. He wet his sword-calloused hand again and increased his speed, maintaining pace until his arm was beginning to tire. The driver’s side window was almost completely fogged over from the heat of their bodies and the humidity of their breath and sweat. Loqi reached for purchase against the window as he shamelessly moaned into the air, his right hand painting an elongated print in the condensation on the glass, hips snapping forward while his orgasm covered Cor’s hand with semen.

Cor allowed Loqi to catch his breath, his pale face flushed, blonde strands plastered against his forehead. “Son of a bitch,” Loqi cursed, “I hope I didn’t jizz on my pants.”

“Only in my hand,” Cor said matter-of-factly, using Loqi’s semen as lubricant for his hand as he brought his dick back to full erection with practiced strokes. The Immortal Marshal was generally not the type to have casual sex, especially casual sex involving egotistical Imperials with authority issues, so when he chose to indulge his lascivious side he held nothing back. “Finish your mission,” Cor commanded, motioning to his cock, not interested in delaying his orgasm any further. The liquor was wearing off with every moment that passed, and Cor had no intention of either of them losing momentum before he had his chance to come.

Loqi used his hand and mouth in tandem this time when he bent back over the Marshal; his palm and fingers encircled his shaft, quickly moving up and down while he took the head of Cor’s cock between his lips, his brow wrinkling as he tasted himself. Cor groaned, watching Loqi through one half-lidded eye, the other squeezed shut. He silently thanked whoever in the Empire taught Loqi how to give head, because he had the skill and passion of a natural cocksucker.

“Excellent,” Cor groaned. The truck cab smelled of sex and sweat, and for a moment his mind flashed back to the Regalia, to a moment when he was young and everyone was alive, in when he was simply Cor Leonis, retainer to the King, the legendary hothead who sometimes refused to listen to orders. Before nostalgia could take hold he forced himself to return to the present, his attention on Loqi’s blonde hair and red mouth wrapped around his cock, lips buried in the thick hair at the base of Cor’s prick. He commanded Loqi to swallow, Loqi’s hair fisted in one hand and grasping the leather car seat with the other as Cor came, filling Loqi’s waiting mouth with hot pulses of come.

The Marshal used the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his brow while Loqi used the back of his hand to clean off his face as he lifted himself back to a seated position, tucking his dick back into his fly and zipping his pants as an afterthought. Cor pushed himself upwards in order to pull his own clothes back on, perching as far forward in the passenger seat as his long legs would allow.

“Well,” Loqi said, eyeing Cor carefully, “you weren’t half bad. I’m impressed.”

“Likewise,” Cor finally replied after considering his response. “I assume you have your own method of transportation to return to your base?”

Loqi nodded. “I’ll call a transport ship,” he said, “I’m sure the rest of my command is wondering where I’ve disappeared to. I’d best check in before they declare me as dead as Ulldor,” he shrugged, opening the door to the truck. A rush of cool night air filled the cab, and Loqi waved his hand dramatically in front of his face. “It reeks like the new recruit barracks in here,” he commented as he eased himself down to the ground.

Cor closed the door and started the ignition, rolling down the windows on both sides of the cab and eyeing Loqi in the darkness. “I assume this...liaison...will stay between the two of us.”

“Of course,” Loqi replied. “The next time I see you, I won't be nearly as hospitable."

Cor shook his head and stepped on the accelerator, pulling away from the blonde man standing in the ethereal glow of the nearby Haven. By the time the transport ship touched down, Cor was far enough away that its bright red engine light was only a tiny speck in his rearview mirror.


End file.
